


in the pursuit of more alcohol (why space is overrated)

by Romantic_Llama



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fun, Humans, M/M, Mass Effect 3, Mass Effect Multiplayer, More oh my, No Guns, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Turians, big guns, shooty shooty, small guns, sometimes not fun, space boom boom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-04 12:27:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11555202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romantic_Llama/pseuds/Romantic_Llama
Summary: There are the damn few, and there are the dead. As Shepard attempts to save civilization, there are thousands attempting to save a home, a block, if not a city. The story of the SSV Verdun and its somewhat merry band of misfits as they shoot, get shot, and take shots.





	1. Unto the Breach

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Galaxy at War: N7](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/308946) by iBayne. 



> Hey all!  
> This is my first attempt at a fanfic, inspired by the Mass Effect world, multiplayer, and iBayne's wonderful, if unfinished, Galaxy at War: N7 over at FF.net. This fic will be mostly OC, and focus around the main canon of ME3 from the special ops member's perspective.  
> Since I'm looking to field a wide array of new characters, person OC submissions will be welcomed and used; just comment with your character's race/class/abilities or weapons and any other info you'd like to include.  
> Hope you enjoy!

 

_Bang. Bang._

 

“Hey, not bad!”

 

Anne looked at the smirking face of her turian partner, and settled her own face into the dryest expression possible.

“I managed to hit the arm on my seventh shot. Fantastic.”

“Oh, cheer up,” the tall turian said gently, her sub-harmonics rattling with amusement, something Anne had only started picking up recently. “You’ll get better.”

The human woman stepped back from the upscale C-Sec sponsored firing range, and gestured the lithe turian towards the Predator pistol on the bench, bowing in a way that could only be sarcastic. It had been her idea, after all. One bad photo shoot, and now the turian was threat assessment this and weapons training that.

Zia smirked again, but this time it was far more predatory. She strode forwards, picking up the pistol and ejecting the heat sink in one smooth motion, reloading another, and aiming at the batarian target downrange.  The whip-crack of came fast as all 15 shots rapidly found homes in either the chest or head of the target, the sink burning empty and ejected and reloaded as rapidly as it was used.

“You’re a showoff, you know that?”

“You mean a _talented, exceptional_ member of Westerlund News.” Her mandibles shifted to form an approximate grimace of their feared boss."

“Ugh, don’t remind me of Jilani here, I was just having fun.”

“Well, if our Battlespace applications go through, we’ll be having a lot more fun soon.”

“Is watching people die your idea of fun, Velashim?” 

“Absolutely. You know, you should try something fun.” The turian pulled from her duffel bag what appeared to be a rapidly unfolding Avenger assault rifle. “This is what fun looks like.”

 

The human was about to fire, albeit dangerously upwards, when the entryway beeped. The duo looked towards the door as a harried-looking C-Sec employee rushed into the range.

“You need to see this,” he panted.

_It has been only two hours since the Reaper forces took Luna base and moved upon Earth, but already it appears to be an overwhelming display of force..._

  
  
  
  


... _The Reapers, now two weeks into their occupation, have managed to force the Alliance either out of Sol or into guerilla resistance on the surface. Rapid progress through urban centers have left already-stricken representatives with little alternative but to redirect aid towards areas deemed more critical in their home systems. Footage captured by Anne Chang for Battlespace,  aboard the SSV Logan, shows the enormous capability of the Reaper forces..._

The shot was almost too artistic for the screen, the man mused. The long-range camera was well above the standard grade of the Alliance News Network; he could probably count the windows on the farthest frigate. The frame laconically followed the Reapers as they advanced through the hailing fire of the Third Fleet, then somehow managed to capture, full-frame, the too-bright red lance that shredded the SSV Petersburg, following pinwheeling debris rather than settling for the classic burning-ship frame that he expected.

The door beeped, startling him from his contemplation of the footage, and through it rushed a fatigues-clad man.

“What the fuck?”

“Abbar-”

“With all due respect sir, I’m not anywhere near qualified, and-”

“LIEUTENANT!”

Staff Commander James O’Connor did understand the plight of the nervous in front of him. He really did. But frankly, the feelings of his now, as in just-informed-of-status-thirty second-earlier now,  XO, were pretty irrelevant.

“I don’t like this any more than you. I know you’re still shook up over Benning, and I know that you want to be anywhere _but_ command. But frankly, neither of us have a choice.” He flipped his screen around to show the man, whose face paled with the footage, even though they had both seen it hundreds of times.

“Before this,” he growled, jabbing at the monstrous Reaper filling the screen, “this was supposed to be an N7 only contingent attempting to mirror Shepard’s team in special ops for the Alliance. More guns and kills than you could count. And then Captain Johnson went down with most of the First Fleet, 7 of the N7’s we were supposed to have are dead, and the rest are deployed, _and almost the entire flight crew died at Arcturus._ So instead of the luxury of planning and standing around, we have 48 hours to gather a special ops group from-”

He stopped, pinching the bridge of his nose, attempting to do something about the massive headache that was growing.

“From what, sir?” Lieutenant Abbar looked, if possible, more confused than before.

“From nothing. Hackett can only give us volunteers, which means we don’t get much choice of crew, if any, at all.  Weapon requests will be delayed for weeks, and so will credits from above. We’ll see what turns up. It could be fifty varren, or it could be fifty justicars. Who fucking knows. But if you’re worried about being stuck as XO, I’ve already had a request for an experienced XO in for weeks.”

“Let me guess,” the soldier muttered, “things went to shit and now there’s not an XO in sight.”

Sean looked around the spacious war room, which was clearly only just online. Folders and files were stacked on terminals, some looking suspiciously burnt and others completely blacked out. The few terminals around the circular room that were on had flickering boot messages, and the large central projection was filled with faces; mug shots and profiles that had clearly just arrived. The finishing Alliance logos were still in their fast-spray packages. He hadn’t really paid much attention as he rushed through the ship, but battle scars were still on the walls, and he was pretty sure there weren't supposed to be that many crates in the elevator.

“This isn’t going to be easy, is it?”

“No shit, Sean. You ever put together an entire ship crew and gear in two day? Because I fucking haven’t. ”

At the use of his first name, the new N7 and even-newer XO looked up and met the tired eyes of a first-time captain, with an unfinished ship, and currently, no soldiers, no crew, and plenty missions that the whole of civilization might depend on.

 

“Well, let’s get started.”


	2. Operation Snowball: Briefing

“So, do we just stand here and wait? Stare at it? Hard?”   
  


“Maybe the captain’s trying to scare it into submission.”

 

Ethan’s mouth quirked up at that. Before he could one-up the man beside him, the hologram fizzled to life, showing the gravelly image of the most gravelly man possible: Admiral Hackett. 

“The following mission and future missions are ones of high danger and even higher reward,” the Admiral murmured, “and if you wished t0 return to regular duty or lives, no one would hold it against you.” 

Ethan scanned the room. The cavernous room was crammed with mostly humans, but also held three turians, a salarian, an asari, and a quarian. All had the same determined, if slightly confused face; volunteering for “special duty” came with no details, and everyone was ready to see what it would entail.

“The SSV Verdun will be tasked with Operation Snowball. The SSV Normandy-” 

Whispers and mutters went around the room. 

“-Yes, including Commander Shepard, retrieved researched from a Cerberus lab located here, on Sanctum.”

The hologram of Hackett’s face, well, mostly  _ stubble,  _ shifted to become a hologram of the planet, a blinking red dot marking the lab. 

“However, Cerberus reinforcements moved in quickly to replace fallen numbers at the facility. This movement, however, alerted the Alliance to a network of labs across the area.” 

Five dots appeared near the already-present one. 

“These labs are linked by a central operations base that increases communication and provides independent power. While taking out the power there would not down the labs, overloading the system as a whole will. The Verdun will deploy forces to rapidly enter the base and retrieve sensitive research and tactical information, and then overload the power linkage at the main reactor. From there, the Alliance can move in force to claim the labs with little fear of retaliation. The central docking tube will likely be well-protected, so evac and drop-off will be be near entrances to the maintenance tunnel network located away from the base. The base is located on the very edge of the habitable strip; expect sub-zero conditions. Good luck. Hackett out.”

As the hologram disappeared, the room rumbled with chatter as the gathered volunteers grew either excited or worried about the upcoming mission. The captain stepped forward, his features shifting from shadow to a strongly defined jaw and nose, dark skin, a full muscular figure, and most importantly to the gathered crew, a shiny N7 badge pinned to his fatigues.  

“Listen up. This will be a two-team mission; Alpha, securing the security center and Beta, hitting the reactor. Alpha will be Sinea, Nick, Hugo, Ethan. Beta will be James, Jake, Vaish and Cim’Zan. The rest of you lot, go do something with your time. Preferably legal.” The last part was accompanied by a well-experienced sigh of a soldier who had seen far too much trouble from “free time”.

Ethan moved quickly out the entryway. Getting crushed by two-ton mercs wasn’t his idea of fun, but just as he was about to get onto the elevator ahead of the crowd, a three-fingered hand clasped him from behind. 

“You’re Ethan?” The female turian was no less fearsome than her two male counterparts; a long scar crossed from ear to jaw, and her face paint was done in a makeshift skull. Her thinner face only made the avian features harsher. Her grip pulled him out of the path of traffic, and up close, her face communicated quite possibly the least emotion he had ever seen.  

“Yeah. Sinea?” He hoped his voice sounded confident enough for the clearly seasoned fighter. 

The turian only nodded in reply.

“Make sure to bring enough firepower.” She stalked off, not in the direction of the elevator, but towards to galaxy map. Just as he was about to call after her, another three-fingered hand settled on his shoulder. 

“I wouldn’t try with her.” The turian behind him was the official-looking one...Cainus? His armor was standard turian infantry, and a Phaeston was still clipped to his back.

“Lost family...?” Ethan trailed off. 

“Haven’t we all?” The turian sighed. “No, she’s Blackwatch, and from what I’ve picked up, her entire squad except her got wiped out pulling out of Palaven. She’s basically got nothing holding her anywhere.” 

“Blackwatch?”

“Human equivalent would be N7.”

“Ah. So uh, point her at the enemy and stay out of the way?” 

“Smart human.” 

  
  
  


By the time Ethan reached the hangar, he had managed to shake off the discomfort the rather...hostile conversation had brought. 

 

“Ethan.” The quarian appeared to have brought not just one assault rifle, but two; a Vindicator and Mattock strapped to his back. “I’ve reconfigured a power-redirect program from the Migrant Fleet. Use it locally, and you’ll fry their security systems.”

“I mean, we’re already taking out the power...”

“It’s Cerberus. Never been a time when it hurts to be careful.”

“You ever tried careful with a krogan?” 

He assumed the quarian was smiling behind the mask, because a high-pitched warble followed his words. 

“Here’s the program. Just, you know...”

“Don’t share it with the authorities. Got it.” 

The engineer realized that there was already a sizable crowd by the now-running shuttles, and jogged quickly to the makeshift armory that took up a good portion of the left-hand side of the hangar, grabbing a handful of heat sinks and jamming them into the pockets on the side of his armor. Well, armor was a loose term-his Alliance engineer outfit did have light ablative plating and some body armor, but the kinetic barriers were really the only true protection against anything bigger than a sidearm. 

“We’re missing Jake. You seen him? You know him?” 

The engineer shook his head to the marine, who promptly cursed. 

“O’Connor wants us rolling out now, and we don’t have time to waste waiting for some knuckle-headed private-” 

“I’m here.” It wasn’t a human marine who interjected, but the fearsome turian merc from the war room. 

“You’re...Jake?” James was definitely confused by the combination of the most stereotypical human name and what appeared to be a turian-tank hybrid. The turian's armor had clearly used to be soldier-issue; but patches and  _improvements_ had made it bulky in some places and light in others, while the arms and chest plate had small  _spikes_ on it. 

“You got a problem?”

“Nah...let’s just get this done.” The trio found themselves quickly inside their respective shuttles, (a little too quickly, for Ethan’s tastes), and seconds later, the eezo cores were straining against vacuum as the shuttles plunged towards the surface.

  
  
  
  


“We managed to data-mine some basic security protocols out of their network recently. The security systems in the maintenance tunnels are nonexistent; regular patrols keep them clear of vermin, but almost all defenses are concentrated around the central docking tube and official entrances. It’s unlikely we’ll be able to provide any sort of rapid reinforcement, so Sinea and James, you’ll have to keep your teams on their toes. Make it happen.”

 

The female turian calmly folded away the viewscreen, even as Alpha team’s shuttle began shaking with atmospheric entry.

“Used to leading a team?” The words were out of Ethan’s mouth before he could stop them.  _ Smart, Ethan. Way to not look intrusive at all. _

“You could say that.” 

“Well, I’m fucking not. Glad the bird is in command.” 

“Pretty sure turians don’t take well to being called birds, merc.”

“What, you Alliance go all kill-the-turians Shanxi this and massacre the batarians that, but now you develop some sort of alien crush?” 

“Guys, take it down a notch-”

“Oh good, another Alliance drone. You probably kill with drones too. Ironic.”

“Yeah, but at least we aren’t murderers like you.” The Alliance vanguard was growling at this point, his hands starting to glow blue. “You mercs just point your guns-”

 

Hugo didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence, because the barrel of a very viscous-looking Locust SMG was now pressing against his nose. Its partner, pressed against the crotch of the merc who quickly deciding standing was not an option. 

 

“Both of you will sit down. And then shut up. And stay silent, and follow every order of mine, or I will take the pleasure of ending your lives.” The turian growled out, pressing the guns hard enough to make the two soldiers wince. “This mission has many, many lives riding on it. So if one life becomes an obstacle, the tradeoff is. Worth. It.” Each word was punctuated with another push, driving the two men into their seats.

The vanguard seemed somewhat cowed, making little eye contact with the others as he pushed his blue combat helm over his head. The merc, however, smiled and laughed, catching the other three by surprise. 

 

“Ain’t a fucking songbird, are you?”

 

Ethan wondered if Bravo team was taking the ice breaking any better. 

  
  


James had managed to defuse two bombs, and they hadn’t even touched down yet. The first, a literal bomb as the turian, Jake (that couldn’t possibly be his actual name), had managed to accidently arm an explosive device the quarian had made appear for “enabling their escape.” 

The second was when the brief, restrained conversation over combat history had resulted in Jake and Cim’zan declaring their preferences for “fighting quarian thieves” and “killing murdering mercenaries”. If shitty conversation was a weapon, these damn volunteers would have a Reaper to their name by now. 

Two thumps permeated the cabin, the pilot signaling the landing zone’s appearance. 

“Helmets on. You don’t want to freeze before your first drop.”

“First drop? Helmets on? You mothering us now, Cortez?”

“Fuck off, Vaish. Just making sure my team doesn’t die to snow. That would be embarrassing.”

“Embarrassment is your middle name, Cortez.”

“You’ve done stuff like this before, human?” The turian clearly didn’t find the human’s exchanges all that amusing. 

“You mean, spec ops missions? Nah. I’m a grunt. Hoorah and all that jazz. Most spec ops I did was smuggling Fornax around Jump Zero.” 

“Do we just call these spec ops? Suicide missions? Bullet orgies? Just wanting to know what to put on my tombstone.” The quarian piped up. 

“Uhh...” 

“N7, I guess.” 

James shot an inquisitive look at Vaish.  _ What was she going for here? _

“N...7?” James swore that Jake was confused. Jake would vigorously deny it later.

“N means special operations. The 7 is a training designation, so ass kicking, and lots of it. N7’s put us regulars to shame.” 

“N7 it is then. Fewer words, too. Makes the epitaph cheaper.” 

James swore the quarian was smirking, but with those masks, you could never fucking tell. 

 

As the shuttle slowed down, Ethan’s hand clenched tighter and tighter on his pistol. He’d thought the Phalanx and his omni-tool would be enough, but the prospect of his first mission was properly strangling that past thought. Sure, he’d done his fair share of battles, but a mission like this, with weight on his shoulders and his alone? Nah. 

His thoughts were cut short by the door opening, his weapon pointing with the others towards the growing strip of light to find...snow. A lot of snow. 

“Guess they didn’t expect visitors.”

“Or they thought the snow would kill any visitors.”

Sinea took a leap, flying a few feet forwards and landing in the snow. Hugo followed suit, with Ethan on his heels, but while Hugo landed feet-first, Ethan stumbled, landing face-first. He was then dragged up by the back off his collar, but not before he was completely encased in white. 

“What, they don’t teach engineers how to jump?”

“Funny. I’m a geek, and you’re the muscles. Can I get a fucking computer now?”. 

“The entrance is this way-keep it quiet, and let's move.” Bravo team had appeared from the shifting currents, their shuttle no more than a dull glow in the edge of Sinea’s vision. 

The entrance, it turned out, was no more than a large manhole cover, with a security camera nearby that Ethan had described as “older than an asari, and a damn sight uglier.” The tunnels itself elicited a groan from half the members. Narrow and low, the dark cut only offered a stench suspiciously like dead varren. 

“Single file. Let’s move.”

  
Sinea only hoped the objective would be completed _before_ all the humans did something incredibly stupid and died. 


	3. Operation Snowball: Part 1

The Cerberus operatives were just as surprised as the Alliance ones they had just run into; there was a pause, a second or two, before all hell broke loose. 

Sinea put down the front trooper as the others dove back into the side hallway from which they had appeared, filling his helmet with bullets, then brains and blood. To the right of her, Nick and James dropped into a firing crouch and began alternating fire, preventing any enemy from poking their head out, and Vaish extended a biotic shield from her hands to cover the two men. 

“Count to three, then throw.” Hugo pressed a large fragmentation grenade into her hand.

The explosion was loud enough to shake the Alliance trio, Vaish’s shield flickering slightly. Sinea spun out into the corridor, expecting fire, but the enemy group was silent except for the pattering of footsteps as the surviving engineer sprinted down the hallway from them. Before she could take a shot at him, two slugs from behind her smashed into the back of his helmet, sending him to the ground. She turned to see the turian mercenary with a Phalanx extended, his glowing, slitted helmet giving him an eerie look.

“There will be more. Double time from here to the entry point.” 

“Shame to leave these new rifles here, boss.” 

“You want them, you can take them. One minute, then we move.” 

Hugo was a quick worker, she’d give him that. Exactly fifty-three seconds later, both he and Ethan were clutching Mattock rifles, and a Carnifex pistol had joined the Phalanx at Jake’s side. Two more rifles were folded up on Hugo’s back, along with the Eviscerator shotgun he already had. They sprinted now, little care to the clatter they made as the lights grew brighter in the tunnel and the burned-meat smell grew less pungent. The large door at the end of the hallway was locked, but Ethan stepped up with his omni-tool ready, and within half a minute the door was open.

“Security’s very light. Should have no problem with the main terminal.” 

The two groups filed into a stark-white decontamination room; the procedures had been disabled, probably to make coming and going from the tunnels easier for the patrols. Sinea noticed that while the procedures were down, the uniforms in the lockers outside the room were fresh and new, clearly only a few weeks old. From the exterior locker room, two hallways extended to the left and right. 

The door beeped open as James slammed a gloved hand on it, and the group began to split towards the two hallways. 

“Ethan, any plans?”

“Give me a second.” He tapped away hurriedly on his omnitool , attempting to find a blueprint of the base. The room was mostly silent as the operatives shifted around, waiting for the engineer to find them direction. 

 

“You finding them?” Hugo urged. 

“Yeah, what does it look like I’m doing? Poker?” Ethan waved his omnitool in the mercs face. 

Sinea understood what the merc was feeling, coming off the rush of combat only to stand, with the enemy just nearby, waiting for someone to tell them where to go. But at the same time, the merc’s mood swings were starting to get on her nerves. 

“Got it. Security is straight down this hallway,” the engineer flailed his arms in the direction of the left corridor, “and the power station is on the bottom level. Take the stairs down the left hallway through the right wing. I’ve sent the blueprint to all of your omnitools.” 

The sound of eight weapons being checked and primed bounced off the safety-orange lockers, shields being flared and biotics glowing in the edge of her vision.  _  This shouldn’t be too bad.  _

“Alpha will take the security station. Beta to power. We get the research before we blow the power, then we meet back here,” she yelled.  James nodded. 

“Eliminate targets with extreme prejudice,” he growled, nodding to her, then turning to face the opposite hallway. 

“Beta, with me!” 

Sinea opted for her normal approach, which was to simply move forward and hope her comrades followed. The sounds of Beta faded behind them as they moved through the doorless hallway, occasionally intermixed with gunshots and screams they all hoped were Cerberus’s. Their footsteps clattered off the steel walls.  

“No alarm?” Nick asked. 

“Probably silent. Full alarm would be for evac, and we’re too small of a force to prompt that.” Ethan muttered. The Alliance soldier looked inquisitively at the engineer. 

“Done this before?” 

“Once disabled a ship remotely by triggering the silent alarm and then venting the compartments they ran to.” Ethan’s face was an emotionless expanse. “Only option where we didn’t lose an entire cruiser.” 

“Batarians?” 

“No.” 

Before Nick could pry Ethan farther, Sinea held up her hand in the universal stop signal. The hallway ahead ended in an intimidating looking door, where two guards were. Or had been, for they had been literally ripped apart, each split into two halves with gore filling the space in between. 

 

“What the fuck?”

 

_ Someone’s already here.   _ Third parties were the worst possible thing to happen to a mission. The last time a third party had shown up, she’d lost three of her best men, spent two months in the hospital, and half her intestine wasn’t hers. 

“Close it up. Stay quiet, eyes ahead,” she whispered. 

Ethan moved up, his footsteps exaggerating silence, and began hacking the door. 

“Someone’s already been here,” he whispered, confirming everybody’s obvious suspicion, “most of the firewall is already down. Top-notch program too, it looks like.” He stepped back as the door swung open into what looked like the armory, where more carnage met their eyes. The intruder, whoever they were, had cut through the squad that was gearing up here. Guns and armor pieces were bent or shattered all over the room, and the troopers were in similar shape. What looked to her trained eye like heavy pistol fire had cut down the troopers nearest the door. Those at the back of the room had been subject to the intruder’s fearsome biotics, the tables that had held weapons tossed to the walls, knocking weapons, ammo, and limbs everywhere.  The bodies in the farthest corners were barely recognizable as human, let alone Cerberus.

“Jesus...” Nick muttered. Ethan looked like he was going to vomit inside his helmet, and well, Hugo looked slightly less cocky.  

“Whoever this is, we need to stay out of their way.” 

“No shit.” 

“Bravo, come in, status.” Sinea spoke into her comm.

“Bravo here. Encountered light resistance, moving towards target now.” James’s voice crackled through her helmet. 

“There’s evidence of a third party. So far they’re only helping us, but they are highly armed and dangerous. Keep your eyes open.” 

“Got it. We’ve seen no evidence of a- Jake, watch out!” The line cut out. 

“They’ll be fine.” Sinea reassured the squad. “Let’s move.”  She moved through the open door, stepping over the corpses. The security center was visible in the next room-a glass fishbowl-like data center, surrounded by a wide open atrium with a soaring white roof where terminals and monitors were set up. Natural light shone in from a skylight all the way at the top.

 

The room appeared empty, but as they approached the center, a smoke grenade came whizzing out from a hallway to their right, filling their flank with gray and flashes of yellow-and-white armor. 

“Contact right! Get behind the desks!” Sinea yelled. Cerberus troopers poured out of the entryway, right into the five blasts Nick unloaded from his Katana. Three bodies hit the ground, while a fourth trooper stumbled behind the desks as the shotgun spray shredded his back. The remaining handful of troopers poured fire back towards them, forcing their heads down. 

“Two of those shield-carriers down the middle!” Hugo yelled, unclipping a grenade and tossing it down the central path between the desks. Ethan beside him was unloading onto the Cerberus troops to prevent them from moving forwards, while Nick beside her was doing the same. One trooper fell to Ethan’s Mattock, while two fell to the heavy pistol on her side. The two Guardians pushing up the middle realized their mistake when the grenade at their feet blew through the bottom of their shields and the space underneath, sending them tumbling, their feet blown off. The smoke and screams gave brief pause to the remaining enemies, which is all the Alliance forces needed. 

“Nick, Hugo, push them back!” More troopers rushed out of the hallway as she spoke. “Ethan, with me!” She executed a neat combat roll across the gap between desks, her shields soaking up stray shots, and latched her hand onto Ethan, dragging him with her towards the security station. He quickly snapped out of the battle focus he was in and scrambled ahead of her, hugging the wall of the station As she glanced back, both Nick and Hugo vaulted over their respective barriers, Nick smashing a trooper into the wall with a biotic charge, and Hugo sprinted forward with his shield flared, then bodily picking up a trooper with his omni-blades through his chest and dashing him into another. 

“ Door’s already open. Looks like our visitor was here.” 

“Check if the data’s still there.” 

His omnitool lit up as he began his intrusion into the network, the terminals around him lighting up as he switched between the ke The smacking sound at the window meant that Cerberus had spotted them; it was bulletproof, though, and would hold them long enough.  

“It’s still here.” Ethan looked confused. 

“You’re done with the security?” Sinea queried. 

“Yeah. Whatever tool she used, it just bulldozed the security. Logs say the main research folder was copied, but they didn’t delete it. Copying it now.” 

“Guess they didn’t care about Cerberus keeping it.”

“Or knew we were coming. Not sure which is worse.” 

 

Sinea jerked her head in assent, then moved her attention to her comm. 

“Verdun, come in.” 

“Verdun here.” O’Connors steady, growling voice came through. 

“Alpha package acquired. Third party involved in clearing the way, but no sign of them, nor any opposition from them.” 

“Acknowledged. Proceed to rendezvous and wait for Bravo.” 

“Copy. Alpha out.” She changed her comm to James. “Bravo, do you copy?”

“Bravo here, we’re hitting so heavy resistance, both in security and in enemy forces.” 

“We’ve got our data, so we’ll move in to assist.”    
“Copy that. Would appreciate the help sooner rather than later.” 

With a biotic flash, Nick appeared in the doorway, panting heard through his helmet.

“If we’re gonna go, we gotta go now. Looks like they’re massing in full strength.” Hugo appeared beside him, his black armor streaked with gore, and a hole in his shoulder plate leaking more.

Sinea tapped the focused engineer on the shoulder. “You done?”

“Almost, just wiping it now. And,” the terminal exploded into sparks as he stepped back, “done.” 

“Hugo, you good?” 

“Yeah, I slapped some medi-gel on it, but that fucking was running with armor-piercing rounds. Can barely lift this arm.” True to his words, his left arm hung limply at his side, his Mattock useless on his back.  

“Ethan, your pistol.” Sinea took it from the engineer's hand and gave it to Hugo, who clutched it appreciatively in his right hand. 

“We’re moving to help Bravo complete their objective. Hugo, Ethan, once we hit the rendezvous, I need you to stay behind.” 

“I can still shoot, goddammit.” 

“Barely. And Ethan, we can’t risk you losing the data, so stay with Hugo and-” 

“Hey, wait,” the merc interjected. “I get putting me on bench duty,” he gestured to his limp arm, “but Ethan’s got both arms. And can shoot somewhat, no offense. And s’ah techie. If Bravo needs our help, don’t bring half the help if you don’t have to.” 

The mercs words rang true. “Alright, Ethan, you’re with us.” 

As they slipped back into the hallway that they had entered the security atrium from, James’s voiced sounded over the comms, no longer steady.

“Cim’Zans been hit, and we’re taking heavy fire. We need you down here right now!”


End file.
